


Home by the River's Edge

by troof



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Angst, Keith's dad - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moving, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, Reunion, as in, country sheith, shiro has a truck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-29 13:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19401217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troof/pseuds/troof
Summary: It's been coming for weeks now, but you still can't stop yourself from stating the obvious like an idiot. "You're moving today," you say as you take in Shiro for what might be the last time, in his brown work boots and his cutoff t-shirt, and the sunburnt arms that show that he works out way too much. Although, contemplating the size of those arms, you wonder if there is such a thing.





	1. Letting Go

Your name is Keith. Your mother's name is Krolia, and for all intents and purposes, your dad's name is Tex, even though it's a nickname because he insists on being called that by anyone who's asking. 

And people ask a _lot_. In your opinion, everyone's too nosy around here, and everyone should mind their own business. Just because you live in a small town doesn't mean that you care about what everyone else is doing. You're kind of a loner. You don't like to think of yourself that way, but someone said it to you one time, and ever since, it was like a brand that stuck.

You're Keith, the loner, and you'll wear fingerless gloves and tank tops 'til the end of your days. It feels like you were born in them, and they feel comfortable. 

Your house is the one that stands on the left side of the culdesac, with the fresh paint on the side of the house over splintering wood, courtesy of your dad even though the place is getting up there in age. Dad is mowing the lawn right now, flattening weeds like the contrast of a military haircut in progress for someone who's never cut his hair. The grass has been getting long. You're just lucky Mom hasn't made you cut it, because the way she's been eyeing you makes you think you made a narrow escape.

Dad doesn't like for you to hang around outside when he's cutting the lawn, so you cross the street to visit Shiro, your best friend inside the culdesac and probably the whole neighborhood. Maybe the entire world. His black truck is parked in front of the house and the truck bed is filled with stuff. Wood chairs, blankets, an old television, a PS4. Bags he can't see into. And that's not all.

Shiro emerges from the house carrying another box, this time filled with clothes. He puts it down in the truck and stops when he sees you.

It's been coming for weeks now, but you still can't stop yourself from stating the obvious like an idiot. "You're moving today," you say as you take in Shiro for what might be the last time, in his brown work boots and his cutoff t-shirt, the sunburnt arms that show that he works out _way too much_. Although contemplating those arms, you wonder if there is such a thing, working out too much.

"Yeah. I'm moving," Shiro says, looking at you. His eyes widen, and he pulls you into a hug you aren't expecting. But you let it happen, let him pull you against his ribs and hard body. Behind your eyes, that stinging sensation creeps up, but you aren't going to let it take over, not today. Not when you're with Shiro. "You gonna be okay here?" he asks, and what you tell him is the truth. You're going to be okay because you have to be, whether he's here or not.

"Why would I not be okay? Of course I'll be okay," you reassure him, and you can see that he's visibly relieved. You pull back from his embrace. "I'm gonna miss your truck though."

"You'll have to drive yourself around now. Test out that new _license_."

"Haha, yeah." It's bullshit you had to be 16 to get it--you've been driving on Mom's property since you were 12. Still, Shiro taught you some pretty great things. You're going to miss sitting at the wheel with Shiro next to you, flicking your ear to tell you to _slow down_ , you're not in a hurry. 

You just wish you had more time to spend with him, that's all.

"Are you?" you ask.

"Am I what?" _Going to be okay._ "Oh, pssht, yeah. I'll finally get to see the big city. See, here's my new apartment, and if you go to the top of _this_ building at night you can see all the lights." He shows you a picture of his living space on his phone, and the lights of the city when he scrolls left. "They almost look like stars." 

His apartment looks _okay_ , if a little small. You don't see why he's so excited about it. And the lights do look like stars, but the stars here are infinitely better. You know you're right, and you tell him so. 

"Keith." Shiro frowns. When he says your name in that way you know he's exasperated, but patiently so.

"I just wish I was coming with you."

He puts a hand on your shoulder and you look up. "Keith. Do well in school, get good grades, and you can get into any college you want. Plus, I'll come visit you. I'll keep in touch." 

Will he? The way things go in this town, people leave, and then they're never seen again. That's what happened with Mom. That's what happened with Matt, heck, that's what happened with Lance's dog. All the people in your life are _missing_ , and you don't want Shiro to go, too. 

"Will you?"

"I _promise_."

And you know he will, with his close-cropped hair that hangs too long in the front and obscures his face, and his mouth that smiles too easily. You just don't trust yourself. What if, after this, things change, and you won't have that same relationship with Shiro again? 

You lean against his truck, as is natural, but then straighten up when you realize it's freshly washed. Shiro just polished and waxed this thing.

"It's okay. It's still the same old truck." Shiro crosses his arms and leans on the front door anyway, possibly leaving a smudge of his own.

You relax and lean on the back door facing Shiro, and think that no matter how long you look, it's never going to be enough.

\---

3 years later

Your name is still Keith. No matter how many times Lance calls you mullet head or fuckface,  
it's still Keith. Since Shiro left...you guess Lance is your best friend in the world, but this best is not equal.

Lance lives in the house next to yours. It has pretty much the same floor plan, except his family actually uses the large dining room that splits off of the antechamber. The McClains have had you over for dinner a handful of times, and his mom has excellent cooking. He also has a friend named Hunk whom you've met in passing, and apparently he's a cooking buff, so when he helps Lance's mom, you eat, and you've died and gone to heaven. Those were some good nights. Lance possesses none of those skills.

You and Lance walk around the back of your house towards the garage, where you have your toolbox stored and the bike Shiro gave you along with the owner's manual. 

"Come on, won't you teach me something? I can fix your bike for free."

"My bike isn't broken."

"But you never ride it." You do, but not very often, and not around Lance.

"Doesn't mean it's broken," you say, but you continue leading Lance to the garage. "Look, just because you learn about _my_ motorcycle doesn't mean you're an engineer. It won't make you smarter than you were, and it won't make you seem that way. I don't know why you don't think you're smart enough to hang out with Hunk as it is. You're plenty smart."

"Why is he leaving me for Pidge then? Every day, they bond over engineering stuff or make some sciencey joke I can't understand. He spends less and less time hanging out with me. I just don't know what to do." 

Like you said, you don't know why someone one day decides to leave somebody else, but there seems to be a pattern.

You press the button on the clicker that opens the door to the garage and stalk over to your bike. On the shelf is the owner's manual, so you pick it up and toss it to Lance.

"What's this?" he asks.

"The manual for the bike. The way I learned about it was reading that, so you're gonna have to do it at some point."

"You read?"

"Yes. I'm not 'naturally smart,' Lance, there is no such thing." He pouts, so you show him some things, but he doesn't really seem interested or even seem to enjoy it, so you both wash your hands off and go to Pidge's house next door. 

Pidge's house is the one next to Shiro's. You still call it Shiro's in your mind even though now only his parents live there. It's a habit you can't break.

When you enter Pidge's house, she and Hunk are sitting on the couch, perusing something on her laptop. A man with chin-length hair is standing in front of them on the phone, listening attentively as if he's waiting for a radio ticket. Now that you think about it, he does look familiar, and he has the same facial structure as Pidge.

"Matt's home?" you ask her, hoping for an explanation?

"Yeah, he just came home last week! He's starting a business here in Littleton." The conversation continues as you slowly process the fact that Pidge's older brother, who hasn't existed for as long as you can remember, willingly _came back._ "And guess who else is coming back?" she says. "Shiro!"

Shiro's coming back? You thought he was gone.

"Is he coming back _here_ , or just back to town?"

"Well, his parents live here, of course he's coming here." 

That's right. But you aren't ready to see that big black truck.

\---

Through a strange twist of fate, your name is Shiro. You're a Japanese-American man who lives in the south part of the USA, and you're also gay, though you're very glad you didn't discover that there. In college you learned that that part of the country doesn't tend to be very forgiving, and although Littleton seems like a nice community, you don't want to test it there.

The drive back is long. You keep yourself awake with sugary gas station coffee and country rock on the radio. When you pull into your driveway late at night, you feel bone-deep relief envelop you like a blanket.

You say goodnight to your parents. In the morning, you greet Matt and Pidge, and their new friend Lance, who moved in shortly after you left. You want to see Keith, though you wonder how he'll respond to you after not being in contact with you for so long.

You texted him. You called him. Frequently, in the beginning, and then less so as he stopped returning your texts. You assumed he didn't want to hear from you after so long, and you didn't know why. 

He doesn't answer the door, so you are just preparing to come back later or call when Keith comes around the side of the house wearing a plaid button-down. He drops his hose and it spills into the garden.

He calls your name.

"Keith!" you call in response. You get closer, but there's no hug, no reaction, nothing. "How have you been?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it obvious which fandom I came from
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'm really excited about the next part but unfortunately I don't have time to write it tonight, so I just have this. Stay tuned for beer and fishing by the river, and possibly some wrestling and feelings :)


	2. Recapturing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're back," he stutters, voice rising an octave before he can calm it down.
> 
> "You're alive," you counter.
> 
> "Uh--yeah." 
> 
> Wherein Shiro comes back to Littleton. He finds that for some people, a lot of things have changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...okay. So, this got angsty??? Fast?? I'm going to have some cute wrestling and fish-catching in the next chapter?? Maybe? I'm gonna go update the tags.

>>Be Shiro.

You wonder what you must have done to make him cut off contact with you so long, but you know what it was. You left. And you couldn't help leaving, because you always wanted to get out of this town, wanted to see what the high life was like. In the city with all those lights. 

Keith didn't. Keith seems to have a connection with the land you'll never have, no matter how hard you try, and that's always torn you apart. 

"You're back," he stutters, voice rising an octave before he can calm it down. You step closer and--oh. _Oh._ Keith is _certainly_ bigger than you remember. He's broader in the shoulders, and there's stubble gracing his chin.

"You're alive," you counter.

"Uh--yeah." 

There's a long time you spend staring at each other--Keith looks at you, you look at him--and then you both start talking at the same time.

"So how was the city? Was it worth leaving for?"

"I didn't realize my absence would upset you so much."

"Of course it didn't, you were only _following your dreams_."

"I was _going to college._ It's what everyone's supposed to do. Aren't you enrolled?" When Keith crosses his arms and doesn't answer, you start to worry. "Keith? Tell me you go to college."

Keith looks away and doesn't answer. You pressure him until he does. "What? It's not like you care, anyway. You've been gone for three years."

"I...tried to keep in touch. A relationship can't be one-sided, Keith, you know, you have to try." 

Keith glares fire at you and you know he's always been formidable. "Let me show you something," he says, turning on his heel and marching toward the front porch.

"Okay," you say, and follow him. He opens the screen door and shoulders his way inside.

"This is my house." 

"O...kay." You've been here a million times. It looks a little darker, and _emptier_ , than you remember, but still, it's Keith's house.

"No, no. It's _my_ house." 

What? No, no, no, this can't mean what you think it means. 

"Where's Mr. Kogane?" Keith doesn't answer, just stares at you in shock. Oh. _Oh._ "Shit, Keith." You didn't know Texas Kogane particularly well, just saw him working around the yard on his off days or mowing the lawn. He was a quiet man who kept to himself, but he was nice to you every now and then. "What happened?"

Keith points a finger at you, grimaces, then draws his hand back. "You know what? Let's get drunk first." You follow Keith into the kitchen as he produces a six-pack of beer and takes it out to his car, an old, beat-up, four-door sedan. The paint is red, but it's faded. The seats are plush fabric but old. 

Keith still hasn't said if Mr. Kogane is alive or dead. You hope, for Keith's sake, you're just thinking the worst. 

You follow Keith around to the driver's seat, then slip into the passenger's when you can. You both buckle yourselves in. It's weird to see Keith confident behind the wheel, as the last time you drove together he could barely make a U-turn. 

"Uh, you know--" you point out that since one of you is driving, you can't _both_ get drunk or you won't be able to get back home.

"I'm getting drunk then," Keith fires back, and you guess that means you're driving home. You're okay with that, as long as you get to be with Keith. 

The car fires up and you pull out of the driveway, and Keith's gentle around the corners despite himself. You remember he always used to speed up and refuse to slow down both out of stubbornness and a general frustration with the car, but today the drive is smooth as molasses.

Keith is tense, though. You can see it in the way he stares straight ahead and clenches his jaw. As you get closer to your destination, he seems to relax though, bit by bit.

It occurs to you you don't even know where you're going.

Then you recognize the convenience store on the corner, the last intersection before the trees thicken and become the only scenery left on the road. "Oh. I know where we're going," you say, as if that realization carries significance for Keith.

"Yep, the river, where we used to fish. I knew you would," Keith says, and he looks sideways at you like he expects you to share in a little secret. Not many people come here, where you're going. It's your and Keith's secret place. "I used to come here when things got bad. Still do, sometimes." He parks the car, and the headlights die when he kills the ignition. He slams the door and you can see him come out with the six-pack of beer. 

He sits by the bank and you go back and retrieve the fishing poles once the trunk is open. You get the bucket of bait, although you've never known these fish to go for anything that isn't live. Habits must have changed. "It looks like it hasn't changed a bit," you say, staring out across the water. The muddy grass that unfailingly borders the shore. The mosquitoes you have to slap away from your calves.

"No, it hasn't. But everything else has."

Keith cracks open the can and you have to remind yourself he isn't a teenager anymore. He's an adult. He certainly looks the part. Suddenly, you have to know. Your voice drops down to a whisper. "Is your dad...dead?" 

Keith pauses, then takes another large sip from the can. "Oh my god, you're gonna make me say it."

You come up and put your arms around him at this point, not because you've been wanting to, but because it feels natural, to comfort Keith. "No, I won't, not if you don't want to." Keith puts his hand on your forearm and you know he appreciates the gesture, even though he doesn't say it. "We don't even have to talk about it. Not if you aren't ready."

He nods hurriedly, then goes to pick up the line, and casts it in the water. You're sure the sinker makes a loud "plop" when it enters the water, but it's too far away to hear when you're on the shoreline. You cast your line out too and just sit on the bank with Keith, watching his reaction.

The guilt that hits you is overwhelming. It's overwhelming that you weren't there for Keith, and while you were learning about fancy political science endeavors Keith was probably crying into his bedsheets. You don't realize that you're frowning until Keith says, "Why are you unhappy?"

"I'm not." And then you pull out of your frown.

"It's not like it's your dad."

But it is Keith's. "Well, no--"

"It happened three years ago, Shiro, I'm fine." 

"Three years ago?" you splutter, tightening your hold on the fishing rod. "That's right when I--"

Yeah, it's right when _you left_. No wonder Keith was so mad at you, if it happened after you left it must have felt like his world was crashing down. You can't believe you weren't there for him, and when Keith didn't answer your messages, you should have known something was up. If you had just pushed a little harder--

"Shiro." Keith's baritone cuts through the disarray in your thoughts. "It's fine." 

Keith stares straight ahead and looks at the bobber on the surface, and what, no, you're not going back to fishing after this! "So what happened next?"

Keith takes a deep breath. "A lot of grieving, that's what. Some fighting. And a lot of trouble with the bank too. They said they wanted to take the house, I couldn't let myself give it up…It's the one thing Dad put work into, you know? I can't just let them take it from us! It's the one thing I have to hold on to, so--I got a job, so I could keep making payments, and...that's why I'm not in college."

You think back to the house in the culdesac with its high ceilings and peeling paint, and the way Keith said _this is_ my _house now_ , all seriousness intended. He must have run himself ragged trying to keep up with it.

It occurs to you that Keith has grown up, in more ways than just one, and you hate it, hate how cruel the world is being, because Keith's done nothing wrong in his life.

And then he asks, "Are you disappointed?" and you think your heart breaks just a little, because you'd never be disappointed in Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://wwwxthegallaxy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
